Not far from the harbor, with a beautiful view of the sea, the Villa Monte-Cristo lay. It was like all dwellings of the count, rich and elegantly furnished, and a splendid terrace with exotic plants could readily induce the inhabitants to believe they were really in a tropical region. Parrots of many colors swung on the branches of tamarind-trees—the sycamore rustled, and leafy bananas and beautiful palm-trees reflected their branches in the blue waters of the Mediterranean sea.

On the evening of the day Monte-Cristo arrived in Marseilles, the count sat with Haydee on the terrace. Both seemed delighted with the splendid panorama before them, and from time to time the count rose to look after Spero, who, bending over a book, sat reading in the adjacent conservatory. Now, Monte-Cristo remained with Haydee, who in her usual way was leaning back in an ottoman, and putting his arm around the young woman's neck, he whispered:

"Haydee, look at me!"

The shining dark eyes which beamed like stars gazed steadfastly upon the noble face of her husband, and the small white hand glided softly into his.

"Haydee," said Monte-Cristo, earnestly, "do you believe in me?"

Haydee raised herself half sorrowfully.

"Do I believe in you?" she repeated, rather vexed; "are you not my master, my god? do we ask the slave if he believes in his employer?"

"Haydee, I am not your employer, and you are not my slave."

"You are my husband, my all! Oh, could you read in my soul, you would not question me in this manner. Listen. I was present when my father was betrayed and murdered—they tore me from his corpse and dragged me to the slave market, where grief and death awaited me."

Haydee continued: "Then you appeared—like a god you stepped before my tearful eyes, and from that moment I lived for you only in the world! You purchased me and I became yours—yours in body and soul, and daily I bless the hour when first I saw you!"

Haydee drew her husband's hand to her lips, and then in a low tone continued:

"All my thoughts and contemplations since then were centred in you—at that time, being afraid you would remove me from you, I was on the point of taking my own life!"

"Haydee, what are you talking about?" muttered Monte-Cristo, confused.

"In truth—do not try to deceive me—you intended to give me in marriage and bestow my hand on somebody else!"

"Who knows whether it would not have proved fortunate for you?" whispered the count sorrowfully.

"Oh, Edmond, you break my heart with such words! How could I, separated from you, be happy? I live, I breathe for you only, I honor you not only as my husband, but as the greatest, noblest man!"

"Haydee, you make me blush—I am weak and sinful the same as others!"

"No, oh, no! If you, as a chastening angel, caused the guilty to vindicate themselves, and recompensed what is good; you seemed to me almost god-like. You raised me to be your wife; to you I am indebted for the greatest happiness of a woman, the happiness of possessing a darling child, and Spero is the more dear to me as he promises to be your very image."

Monte-Cristo threw a timid glance at Spero, who was still diligently reading by his lamp, and then cordially said:

"Haydee, then you never regretted having bestowed your hand on me?"

"Never."

"I have never caused you any pain?"

"None—I am the happiest of women."

"And if circumstances occurred which would compel me to give you pain?"

"Then I would submit to your intelligence and not complain."

"Also if I were to destroy your happiness forever?"

"Even then—I would live in the past and be rich."

"Then listen to me, Haydee—we must separate."

"Separate?" repeated Haydee, leaping up terrified and her eyes filling with tears.

"Yes—for some time—a few months."

"Thy will be done," uttered Haydee sighing; "I know that a sacred duty calls you away, and God will strengthen me to bear the trial!"

"Thanks, Haydee, for this word—it will accompany me when I am away from you!"

"And to what place does your duty call you?"

"To Algiers—in the desert! I am obliged to return a son to his mother, or even die, if circumstances should become mightier than my will."

"To Algiers? But why am I not allowed to accompany you? You know that with you I am not afraid of any danger, and—"

Haydee became suddenly silent. She noticed that her husband's eye, remarkably sorrowful, turned from her and Spero, and bending her little head she whispered:

"Forgive me. I know that I dare not leave Spero."

Monte-Cristo trembled. The most difficult was to come yet.

"Haydee," he then said, softly, "you cannot accompany me. I shall explain to you immediately why it cannot be. Not because you dare not leave Spero—"

He stopped short. The expression of terror in Haydee's beautiful eyes benumbed him.

"What do you mean by that?" she ejaculated, pale and trembling. "You do not intend to rob me of my last consolation, do you?"

"Compose yourself, Haydee. Remember the words which you uttered just now. Yes, I leave you, and take Spero with me."

"Spero—to go away with you!" groaned the young wife, with panting breast; "oh, my lord and master, that you cannot really mean! You do not wish to kill me, and—"

"Haydee, you once told me your life is in my hands."

"That I am still ready to acknowledge. Here is my poniard. Kill me, but leave me my child!"

In consternation the young wife pulled a dagger sparkling with diamonds out of her waist, and offered it to Monte-Cristo.

"Strike!" she said, with faltering voice. "What good am I in this world if you and Spero leave me? Well, why are you hesitating? Take my heart out of me, but leave me Spero."

She knelt at Monte-Cristo's feet, and embraced his knee.

Suddenly her eye flashed, and she cried, animated with fresh hopes:

"Indeed, my beloved, I think you only intended to try me. You will not crush me; you will be persuaded. Oh, make an end of this torment. Tell me that you do not wish my death."

"Haydee," replied Monte-Cristo, with stern forehead, "you know that I only fulfil my duty, and instead of assisting me to smooth the path for me, you refuse to bear your share of the burden."

"I do not understand you," uttered Haydee.

"I must depart, and Spero has to accompany me; but if I do not consent, my dear Haydee, for you to accompany us, it is for the reason that you have a mission to fulfil here."

Haydee remained on her knees, but her tears ceased.

Oh, what mastery did not this man exercise over her! The heart was ready to break, and yet she could not do otherwise; she was obliged to obey him.

"Haydee," remarked Monte-Cristo, quietly, "surely you do not believe that I give you pain unless compelled to do so?"

"No, oh, no," sighed the young wife, throwing herself in his arms. "Speak, what is to happen?"

"Listen. Behold, ten years ago I brought you to Monte-Cristo, and there disclosed to you my past. I explained to you how I punished the guilty, and you told me I acted rightly. At that time I vowed to be efficacious henceforth wherever I am able to protect the innocent in order to atone in case I carried my zeal too far. Among others who suffered much from my vengeance were Mercedes and her son. You know the love I bestowed upon this Catalonian, and I have not concealed from you that the rage of being disappointed in her furnished my arm with weapons against Ferdinand Mandego, the murderer of your father.

"I stretched out my hand, the avenging flash of lightning struck, and Ferdinand Mandego died—his wife and his son felt the heavy blow in all its bitterness, but the further consequences of my deed I had not considered! Albert de Morcerf has disappeared, his mother despairs, and it is myself who have chased him to death! Haydee, should you like to see your husband a hangman?"

"Oh, Edmond, do not speak thus! You did not intend anything wrong; you are great and noble!"

"No, I profess to be so, and that is my crime. I made Albert de Morcerf suffer for the deed of his father; I clothed myself with divine majesty and exercised justice with human hands! Do you now understand, Haydee, that I must stake my life, in order to restore to Mercedes her son, that I, who punished others, may become reconciled with myself?"

Haydee sighed—she was conquered.

"But," commencing anew with trembling voice, "also I am a mother, and my son—"

"Your son, Haydee," interrupted Monte-Cristo, with flaming eyes, "your son shall be made worthy of you. The world calls him the son of the Count of Monte-Cristo—let him be deserving of this title! Spero is noble and courageous; he knows what is good and evil, and his pure heart I am proud of. To be just he believes to be his aim—to be just means to combat for what is good. In the midst of approaching dangers you never saw me trembling; with firm step I faced all danger and death; and Spero shall be trained to act in the same manner. The terror of the desert shall not make him turn pale—he is to face danger and learn to become worthy of the mission his father began, in order to accomplish it. 'Noble be man, efficacious and good'—may this poetical phrase be his shield, and may God guide him in his ways! Answer me, Haydee—is Spero to accompany me?"

"Yes," escaped in a low tone, like a breath, from the lips of the young wife.

"Thanks, Haydee; now listen as to what your mission consists of. You are yourself a mother—and you will know how to console a mother. Mercedes—enter!"

The door leading to the terrace opened, and Mercedes with tottering steps approached Haydee.

"Haydee," said Monte-Cristo, turning toward his wife, "here is Mercedes, whom you have known through me for some time."

Haydee hastened toward Mercedes with extended arms.

"Be welcome, dear friend," she accosted her with a sweet, melodious voice.

"Oh, how beautiful you are," muttered Mercedes, looking at the young wife admiringly.

"Madame," stammered Haydee, blushing, "I give you my most valuable possessions, my husband and my son."

"Your son?" repeated Mercedes, with emotion.

"Spero—come this way," said the count.

The boy sprang toward him—Mercedes looked at him and sobbed bitterly.

"Papa, why is she crying?" whispered Spero.

"Because she is reminded of her son who is in peril of death," replied the count significantly.

"In danger of death?" Spero repeated quickly; "oh, papa, why do we not hasten to his rescue?"

Monte-Cristo lifted the boy joyfully in his arms and kissed him passionately.

"How is it," said Haydee, alike proud and sorrowful, "will you leave me, Spero?"

"Oh, mamma—to hasten to aid the unfortunate is our first duty, and you yourself have taught me it," replied Spero, embracing the young wife.

Now Bertuccio appeared.

"Count," said he, "here is a soldier who desires to speak to you!"

"Ah—the Zouave Coucou—let him come in!"

The Jackal entered and inquiringly looked around—yes, here it was almost as nice as in Africa.

"Coucou," the count commenced, "I have obtained for you an unlimited furlough."

Coucou scratched his head.

"Well—is it, perhaps, not acceptable to you?"

"Not exactly that, commander, but what am I to do in the intervening time? Africa's sun, the Bedouins, the Jackals, nay even the Hyenas I shall miss."

"Well, perhaps we can find a remedy—to-morrow at daybreak we depart for Algiers."

"To Algiers—is that true?" joyfully exclaimed Coucou, throwing his cap in the air and making a salute, which perhaps was not fashionable, but nevertheless significant.

"Excuse me, commander," he stammered, placing his hand on his cap, "I am overcome with joy! God be praised, now we shall find my good captain!"

"That I also hope, Coucou."

"But how is it with her ladyship, commander?" asked Coucou doubtfully; "is she satisfied?"

"Ask her yourself," said Monte-Cristo.

"Madame," Coucou said turning toward Haydee, "you have a brave husband, and as long as Coucou lives nobody shall touch a hair of his head!"

Haydee smiled amid her tears, and the count said:

"Coucou—here is my son, he will accompany us!"

"The little fellow—Sapristi—that is grand! the young gentleman is the little corporal—do you like the title, my young master?"

Spero, clapping his hand joyfully into the proffered one of the Zouave, cried out laughingly:

"I shall do my best to earn my epaulets!"

"Go now, Coucou," said Monte-Cristo, "and do not fail to be at the harbor at six o'clock to-morrow morning."

"I will not fail, commander."

The Zouave, placing his hand to his cap, went away.